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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28456041">Punk Mixed Colours</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikAdair/pseuds/NikAdair'>NikAdair</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Punk Singer Keith, Secret Fanboy Lance, band au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:13:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28456041</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikAdair/pseuds/NikAdair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Blue caught his attention, and his eyes tracked it, locking onto the figure wearing it. Blue and black plaid over a white t-shirt, sleeves rolled to reveal a blue lion tattoo. A bandana wrapped around the left forearm. His eyes travelled up, a blue and a green glow necklace lighting up the skin of the figure.</p>
<p>Further up, bright blue eyes filled with humour and affection looked back at him, and the figure smirked, winking at him. Keith shook his head as a break in the lyrics gave way to an instrumental interlude. He played it off as wiping sweat soaked hair off of his face, but the look the figure gave him told him that it wasn’t as easily hidden.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Punk Mixed Colours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My piece for the Coloratura Klance Zine!<br/>Been meaning to post this for a while, but just haven't. Thought today would be a good day, since it's New Year's Eve. End 2020 with posting the last few VLD fics that I can.<br/>Also, for those curious, the song that Keith is singing is 'Check Yes, Juliet' by We The Kings.<br/>Anyway, I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The venue was hot, humid, almost unbearable. Almost. The liveliness of the audience, their cheering and singing. The energy radiating throughout the space. The lights that shifted through the colour spectrum. Those were the things that made performing there worth it. It’s what made any performance worth it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith reached down, taking a long drink from his water. His throat was starting to scratch, the hour of singing starting to take its toll. He could hear Pidge starting the drum beat for the next song, Hunk laying down a bass line that thrummed through his chest. Shiro’s guitar licks rang out over everything, shoving out any thoughts that Keith had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In all fairness to him, after so many different sets and so many different songs, each one started to blend together. His body went on autopilot and he sang without really knowing what he was singing. He vaguely registered that he was singing a song about not caring what someone thought and something about happiness and misery, but he was more focused on other things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes scanned the crowd between sustained notes. Bodies jumped and danced, singing along with him. Glow necklaces and bracelets kept catching his attention, the colours contrasting the dark colours that were worn. The further back in the space he looked, the harder it was to see details, the light not quite reaching back there. But it didn’t keep him from searching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blue caught his attention, and his eyes tracked it, locking onto the figure wearing it. Blue and black plaid over a white t-shirt, sleeves rolled to reveal a blue lion tattoo. A bandana wrapped around the left forearm. His eyes travelled up, a blue and a green glow necklace lighting up the skin of the figure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Further up, bright blue eyes filled with humour and affection looked back at him, and the figure smirked, winking at him. Keith shook his head as a break in the lyrics gave way to an instrumental interlude. He played it off as wiping sweat soaked hair off of his face, but the look the figure gave him told him that it wasn’t as easily hidden.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jumped back into singing, tearing his eyes off the figure. They were nearing the end of the song. “Whoo!!” he shouted, practically ripping the microphone away from him. The audience screamed and cheered, and Keith laughed. “Thank you for coming out tonight guys! We’ve got one more song, and it’s a crowd favourite!” The crowd cheered louder and Shiro started on the intro, Pidge joining in with the familiar drum beat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith started singing, the lyrics as familiar as… His eyes trailed back to the figure, seeing him singing along with him. Yeah, as familiar as those lips singing with him. He kept his eyes on him as he sang. Even though he knew this wasn’t his usual Saturday night event, he knew that he was always in the back, supporting them all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mind started playing through various memories that came with this song -- the first time he’d ever performed, the first time he’d met everyone else on stage with him -- but most importantly, it flashed to the first time he’d met the boy in blue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rehearsal that night had run late because Keith had been running late. “Look, it’s not my fault that Shiro takes hours to get ready to go anywhere,” he grumbled for the umpteenth time that night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, the guy who wears only jeans and tees is the reason we’re late, Mr. I need to straighten my hair before I go anywhere even though I end up throwing it in a ponytail,” Shiro shot back, smirking, packing his guitar up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He has a point there,” Pidge said, twirling their sticks. “Why spend all that time--” Keith tried to interrupt them, but they pointed one of their sticks at him menacingly, “--doing your hair if it’s just going to get knotted and ratty?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith ran a hand over his hair, scowling. “It’s not knotted and ratty. And you don’t get to talk. You don’t even have long hair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but Matt does, and he doesn’t take hours to do his hair,” Pidge said with the conviction of someone who’s already won.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith groaned, grabbing his jacket. “You’re all just jealous because I can pull of having long hair and you can’t.” He saw Shiro roll his eyes while Hunk and Pidge just looked at each other. “Whatever. Come on, let’s go get something to eat, I’m starving.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As long as it’s not that crappy sandwich shop, I’m game,” Hunk said, shouldering his bass case. Keith flashed him a smile and spun around, walking out the door. He heard everyone behind him groan, but he knew they wouldn’t argue with him. Crappy as it may be, it was still their favourite place to eat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They packed their equipment into the back of Shiro’s van (“Jeez, are you ever going to not be a soccer mom in disguise?”) and made the short trip there. At eleven at night, it was pretty much dead. There was only one other car there aside from them, and Keith guessed it was the guy working there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were hit with the familiar smell of pickles and mayo as they walked in, and Keith’s stomach growled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>When was the last time I ate today? A couple hours?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He was notorious for not eating, so he was always starving by the time he did. He walked up to the counter and rang the bell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi! Be there in just a second!” came a voice from the back. It was new, one he hadn’t heard before, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. He was lost in his thoughts, singing through the song they’d ended rehearsal on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Run, baby, run. Don’t ever look back. They’ll tear us apart, if you give them the chance,” sang the voice from the back, and Keith’s head popped up. The owner of the voice came out, wiping his hands with a towel. He had headphones looped around his neck and the song that they’d been rehearsing was playing from them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry for the wait, how can I help you?” he said, his smile bright. Keith couldn’t stop staring, and Shiro nudged him, making him trip forward a step.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cleared his throat, schooling his features. “Uh, hi. Can I get a tuna melt with no tomatoes?” The boy nodded, scribbling on his notepad. Even the little furrow of his brow was hard to look away from. Shiro pushed him a little, and Keith walked to their usual table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The others joined him a few minutes later, and they all stared at him. “What?” Keith said, feeling on display.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that up there?” Pidge asked, cocking their head a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing! It was nothing,” Keith said, his face flushing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shiro smirked, quirking an eyebrow. “I do believe our dear singer has a crush on the sandwich kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith shrunk back, looking out the window. Unfortunately, that put said sandwich kid’s reflection in his line of sight. “I do not,” he said halfheartedly, watching him bob his head to whatever song was playing through his headphones. He could hear the tinny sound of music playing from them, but they were quiet enough that he couldn’t make out what it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So the blushing and staring has nothing to do with him,” Hunk said teasingly. Keith just crossed his arms, and buried himself in his jacket. The others laughed at him but let him be. A few minutes later he saw sandwich kid (</span>
  <em>
    <span>god, I need to get his name</span>
  </em>
  <span>) come over to the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grilled cheese for the drummer, turkey for the bassist, veggie for the guitarist, and tuna melt for the heartthrob singer.” Keith jerked his head, seeing sandwich kid smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, my sister really likes you guys and she dragged me to one of your shows, so I kind of recognized you when you were ordering. I hope that’s not weird or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith opened his mouth and shut it almost immediately, not knowing what to say. Thankfully, Shiro answered. “It’s definitely not. We’re just not used to being recognized. Thank you for the sandwiches.” Sandwich kid nodded, scurrying back to back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, ‘heartthrob singer’, huh?” Pidge said, nudging him. Keith ignored them, taking a large bite of his sandwich. He heard Shiro chuckle a little, and Keith glared at him. But his heart was starting to race a little in his chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heartthrob singer, huh?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t take long to finish their food, all too exhausted to be out much longer. They got up to leave, and Keith walked to the register to pay. Sandwich kid was there waiting, playing on his phone. He saw Keith walk up and set it down, that same bright smile playing on his features.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith handed him the ticket and his card, and sandwich kid rang him up. He looked back to see Pidge making faces at him through the window, and he shook his head. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned. “Here’s your card and receipt,” sandwich kid said, blushing a little. Keith nodded, taking them. “Good luck on your next show.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled and nodded, heading out. He looked over the receipt and saw something scribbled on the bottom of it. There was a number followed by a note: In case you ever want to see a movie - Lance. Keith looked back, but he’d returned to the back. He smiled, tucking it carefully into his pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re flying through the night, flying through the night! Way up high! The view from here is getting better with you by my side!” Keith sang, seeing the figure singing it just as energetically as him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The song soon came to a close with a guitar riff, and the crowd erupted in what felt like deafening cheers. Keith waved to the audience, turning out of the way of the rest of the band. There were several shouts of Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro, but several more yelling for an encore. “Sorry guys! No encore tonight! But we’d really appreciate it if you guys came back next week to see us again! Thank you for all your support!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They left the stage as more cheers followed, and Keith collapsed against Shiro. “Why do you insist on adding more warmth to my already overheated body?” Shiro said, trying, and failing, to shrug him off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you insist on trying to shrug me off all the time?” Keith said back, peeling himself off of him. Despite the tank top he was wearing, he still felt like he was standing in a sauna. His hair stuck to his skin, and he grimaced, pulling it away. The cool air that hit him made him sigh a little, and he pulled his hair into a low ponytail.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great job out there guys, you all sounded amazing.” Keith turned, seeing Hunk and Pidge talking with the figure in blue. His back was to him, but he would know that voice anywhere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, did Fanboy Lance enjoy the show?” Keith said, sauntering over to him. Lance turned as Keith wrapped a hand around his waist, pulling him close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, it seemed to lack energy,” Lance said teasingly. Keith gasped, pulling away. “I think the singer was a little too cocky throughout.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Careful there McClain, the singer might hear you. And I hear he’s got quite the temper,” Keith said, quirking an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance shook his head, pulling away from him. “I’m sure I can handle him and his temper. Though he could really use a shower.” Hunk and Pidge laughed, and Keith rolled his eyes, turning to walk away. Lance caught his arm, pulling him back. “Babe, come on, don’t be like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to apologize?” Keith said, using his boots to his advantage to look down at Lance. Height was one of the few things Lance had over him, so any chance he had to be taller, he’d take.</span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Lance looked up at him, lips quirked as he contemplated the request. “I guess I can. On one condition.” Keith tilted his head a little, and Lance leaned up, giving a quick kiss. “You have to take me out for ice cream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith pulled away, walking to the stage door. “You and your damn ice cream,” he shouted, turning enough to see Lance staring after him. He pushed through the door, the blast of cool air hitting him and making him sigh happily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could hear the chatter of the crowd as they dispersed into the night, thankful for the fence separating the back of the building from the street. Keith leaned against the building, the brick digging into his exposed skin a little. Not enough to be uncomfortable, but enough to be noticeable. It was grounding, and he closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to settle himself from the adrenaline of the show.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door opened, and Keith opened his eyes, looking over at it. Lance came out, closing it quietly. Keith turned back, looking up at the sky. “You really did sound amazing in there. I loved it,” Lance said, leaning against the wall next to him, their arms brushing against each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Keith said, leaning towards him. Lance wrapped his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. “I’m really glad you showed up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like I could ever miss one of your shows.” Keith smiled, closing his eyes. He could feel exhaustion starting to seep in, and he stifled a yawn. Unsuccessfully, if the way Lance’s laughter rattled in his chest. “Come on, let’s get the punk star home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith nodded, letting Lance lead him back inside. The rest of the band was waiting, their gear packed and ready to be loaded. He took a moment to thank what higher power there was that he got the opportunity to not only perform with these people, but also just know them. They were what made everything worth it -- the anxiety from being on stage, the comments he’d see on Twitter, the exhaustion that always made him sleep for half a day at a time. They made it all worth it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of all, he was thankful that being in this band gave him the chance to meet the love of his life. The boy who always wore something that stood out from the dark colours of the crowd. The boy who, despite having a vastly different taste in music, would always be at his shows, ready to help him unwind and remember why he did it. For that, he was so so thankful.</span>
</p>
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